


Right Place, Right Time

by todxrxki



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, captain kenma & captain akaashi, it's mostly just sweet fluff, kenma and akaashi make a stupid bet, kenma is a little bit cunning, set during third year training camp, this isn't as angsty as it seems i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:46:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21681160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/todxrxki/pseuds/todxrxki
Summary: Kenma pulls his legs up, wrapping his arms around them. “What if,” he says, voice low, “we made it a competition?”Akaashi feels his head snap up. “A competition?” he asks. On one hand, he’s a big fan of competitions, but on the other, how is one supposed to compete in love? He had always figured it was something that happens naturally.“We both give it our all,” Kenma says, “and whoever falls in love with the other first loses.” / Akaashi and Kenma bet on love, and one of them ends up losing.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Kozume Kenma
Comments: 14
Kudos: 226





	Right Place, Right Time

It starts when they’re sitting outside of the gym, both of them hiding from their respective teams, as respectable captains do. They sit in silence for a few moments, and then Kenma tilts his head over at Akaashi, an indicator that he has something to say. Akaashi stares at him with unblinking eyes. 

“Keiji,” he says, his voice, as always, pleasant and soft. “Have you ever been in love?”

Akaashi takes a second to consider, but realizes the answer is clear. He shakes his head. “No, I definitely have not.” 

Kenma nods. “I haven’t either. But I was just thinking that it might be kind of nice.”

Akaashi wouldn’t exactly describe himself as a romantic by any means, but there is something almost appealing about the idea. He shrugs. “When it happens, it will be nice, I suppose.”

That doesn’t seem to satisfy Kenma. Kenma pulls his legs up, wrapping his arms around them. “What if,” he says, voice low, “we made it a competition?”

Akaashi feels his head snap up. “A competition?” he asks. On one hand, he’s a big fan of competitions, but on the other, how is one supposed to compete in love? He had always figured it was something that happens naturally. 

“We both give it our all,” Kenma says, “and whoever falls in love with the other first loses.”

Akaashi blinks. It’s not as though Kenma is particularly unattractive, speaking entirely objectively. He has a nice face, pretty hair, an attractive smile. There definitely ould be worse people to fall in love with. But that’s if he loses. 

And he certainly doesn’t intend on losing. 

“What are the stakes?” Akaashi asks. 

Kenma tilts his head, considering. “If I win,” he says, “there’s this new game I’ve been wanting to play. So you can buy it for me.”

“If I win,” Akaashi says, and then realizes he doesn’t have a clue what he would want. He feels the blood rushing to his cheeks. “If I win… I suppose… I want… huh. How about I let you know once I win?”

Kenma nods, and automatically, Akaashi extends a hand to shake on it. Kenma raises an eyebrow at him but takes his hand and gives it a shake that seems oddly firm for his type of personality. “It’s a bet then,” Kenma says. And if the tiny smile Kenma gives makes his heart flutter a little bit, well, no one has to know. 

He hasn’t lost the bet just yet. 

.

Kenma presents Akaashi with a flower at breakfast the next morning. His teammates all look at him with a mix of shock and amusement, and then Yamamoto starts cackling. 

“What the hell is going on?” he snorts.

“None of your business,” Kenma says primly, giving Akaashi a Look that clearly expresses that Akaashi ought to take the flower or risk certain death. Akaashi takes it, unsure what to do with it, but then Kenma reaches out to tuck it behind Akaashi’s ear, giving him a soft smile. Akaashi’s breath catches in his throat. 

“Ohhh,” Yamamoto says, loud and obnoxious. “Gross.”

“Mmm,” Fukunaga says. “I never thought I would see the day that I witnessed Kenma flirt.”

“KENMA-SENPAI IS FLIRTING?” The tall, really loud second year from Kenma’s team - Lev, he guesses - shouts. 

Kenma groans and leans down in his seat. To save him the embarrassment, Akaashi pats his hand. “Thank you,” he says. “I appreciate it.”

Akaashi tried not to overthink how warm and soft Kenma’s skin feels, and how the blush that paints his cheeks at Akaashi’s words makes him all the more beautiful. 

.

It’s hard, Akaashi finds, to flirt during a game, but not altogether impossible. 

Akaashi likes to give his all into every game, so distractions aren’t appreciated. However, he realizes during the practice match that he’s definitely going to experience some distractions. 

Kenma’s long hair is tied up into a ponytail, little pieces falling out around his face. He gives Akaashi the tiniest little taunt of a smile. “I’m excited to destroy you,” he says flatly. 

_ Shit,  _ Akaashi thinks. It’s kind of hot. He hadn’t even thought he could think like that. He returns the smirk, though, and says, “Not if I destroy you first.”

He can feel the judgmental aura of his teammates in the background. Regardless, he turns back to instruct them on how to handle the game, pretending that his interaction with Kenma had never happened. Like a professional. 

He still finds it intensely hard to put it out of his mind, though. And all the more as Kenma sends setter dumps to land directly in front of him, tossing him a subtle wink afterwards that gets his insides churning. Akaashi can’t take his eyes off of him - off of the way he moves, graceful and yet calculated, off of the way the hair not tucked into his ponytail rises when he jumps and then falls into his face, off of the way his eyes seem to follow Akaashi, a subtle smugness decorating his eyes and lips. 

Fukurōdani falls to Nekoma, 25-20. It’s only a practice game, but it feels like a bigger loss somehow. 

One of the first years approaches him nervously. “Akaashi-senpai,” he says seriously, “is everything all right? You seemed a little off in the game, so I just wanted to check.”

“I’m fine,” Akaashi says, trying to keep his voice level.  _ If you let him get to you, then he wins.  _ Not that the idea of buying Kenma a single game is all that terrible, but Akaashi hates to lose. “We’ll get them next time.”

.

It’s later on that evening, after dinner, when Akaashi finds himself outside next to Kenma again that Kenma strikes a devastating blow. “You look stressed,” Kenma says, those golden eyes darting up and down, ever observant. 

“I can’t imagine why that would be,” Akaashi says, shaking his head. 

The hint of a teasing smile on Kenma’s face vanishes too quickly. Slowly, he leans over and presses a soft kiss to Akaashi’s cheek, a lingering kiss that has Akaashi feeling warm and cold all at once. When he pulls away, that smug look on his face, Akaashi has the sudden (strong) urge to wipe it away. 

So he does. 

He chases Kenma’s lips with his own, thrives in the feeling of Kenma’s soft mouth moving against his, in the feeling of Kenma’s mouth opening slightly, in the feeling of his own hands sliding into Kenma’s hair to drag him closer. He pulls the hair tie out of Kenma’s hair so that he can run his hands through it, the strands soft in his fingers. 

_ Stupid,  _ he admonishes himself, followed by  _ well, you’re just playing along, aren’t you?  _ And then:  _ it would be so easy for this to be real. Stupid Kenma.  _

Kenma lifts an eyebrow when Akaashi pulls away. His lips are swollen and his hair is messy and Akaashi thrives in the sensation that he’d done that, that he’d made the generally unshakeable Kozume Kenma look like that, but then has to wonder why he even cares so much. “That was interesting,” is what he says, though, and it rings like a compliment in Akaashi’s ears. 

“A taste of your own medicine,” Akaashi states matter-of-factly. 

“Hm,” Kenma says. “When I play games, I play to win.”

The look on Kenma’s face, the sight of Kenma’s hair cascading around his face makes Akaashi feel like he’s the one winning. But Akaashi doesn’t say that. 

Instead, he turns back to state at the wall. “What’s your favorite food?”

Kenma’s brow furrows. “Random question.”

“If you’re so determined to make me fall in love with you,” Akaashi says simply, “I’ve figured I should at least know something like that.”

Kenma leans his head back against the wall. “Apple pie,” he says. 

Akaashi finds it adorable, then has to question why he finds it adorable. But somehow, everything about Kenma is becoming more endearing somehow. 

Is that what falling in love feels like?

He doesn’t allow himself to take that line of thought any further. Instead, he answers Kenma’s questions and continues asking his own, finding more about the other and finding that Kenma becomes more comfortable as the night goes on. It’s enjoyable, he thinks. He can’t hope but imagine there will be a lot more nights like this to come. 

.

The next day, it’s Akaashi that brings a flower to Kenma instead and gently tucks it behind his ear, feeling a little spark of joy at the way the bright yellow of the flower seems to bring out the gold speckles in Kenma’s eyes. It’s beautiful, Akaashi thinks, he’s beautiful. But in an aesthetic way, of course.

_ Oh, who is he even kidding anymore. _

“Where did you even find this?” Kenma asks, his fingers lightly brushing over Akaashi’s in a way that makes Akaashi’s heart skip a beat. 

“I decided I should wake up early and go scour the fields outside in search of a flower suitable for you,” Akaashi tells him, embarrassed. 

“You woke up early?” Kenma says, scrunching up his nose. “No thanks.” Kenma’s not exactly a morning person, Akaashi notes; the opposite of Akaashi, then. And yet, somehow it makes him feel even more endeared.

The games go much the same way, Kenma sending his silent taunts over the net and Akaashi responding in turn, and that night when they meet up again, it’s Kenma who initiates the kiss - soft at first, but getting more intense until Kenma ends up pushing him against the wall. Then, after his breathing slows down, they sit against the wall, hand-in-hand, discussing random topics until it becomes late and Kenma dozes off against his shoulder, his face innocent and precious in sleep. Akaashi stares down at him, his heart giving a gentle squeeze. Slowly, he lifts a hand and brushes it through Kenma’s hair. Kenma stirs a bit but doesn’t wake. Akaashi thinks it might be nice if he could live in this moment forever, with Kenma, and then wonders if that’s what the beginning of love feels like.

The days continue like that - mornings of presenting each other with flowers and being judged by their teammates, games where they taunt each other and then, when Nekoma’s playing against Karasuno or whoever, Akaashi can’t help but stare at Kenma admiringly, to the point that he accidentally gets hit in the head with a receive once because he’s not paying attention, nights where they kiss and then chat. Akaashi feels like his head is spinning, like he’s almost drowning in how intense his feelings are. He doesn’t  _ feel  _ things like this usually, at least not this intensely.

So he does the only thing he can think of and calls the person he knows who feels the most intensely.

“You and Kenma, huh?” Bokuto crows on the other end of the line. “Well, I always thought you two were really alike! But I can’t believe you guys made a bet about your feelings! I think that’s kinda stupid!” 

Akaashi groans. “Bokuto-san, please. I simply want your advice, because I respect your opinion as someone who has dealt with feelings before -”

“My advice?” Bokuto squeaks. “My advice is to tell him! Tell him how you feel! Otherwise how’s he gonna know?”

“But then I’ll lose,” Akaashi says, almost sullenly.

“Akaaaashi,” Bokuto says. “I get it, but y’know, sometimes there are things more important than winning! Like - well, I can’t think of anything right now - oh shit, like love! Love is more important than winning.”

“I don’t know if it’s love, exactly,” Akaashi says. “But I think that it could be. Is that important?”

“I think so,” Bokuto says, and his voice is soft with a tone Akaashi’s never heard it take on before. “But you’ll never know if you never put it all out there and try.”

“Okay,” Akaashi says. There’s something comforting about hearing Bokuto’s voice and his slightly simpleton advice. He almost feels like he has the courage to talk to Kenma.

.

However, it still takes him until the last night of the training camp to build up the courage to actually have the conversation with Kenma.

Every day falls into the same routine: breakfast, where they keep exchanging flowers and gifts; eating lunch together and dinner together; stolen glances and flirtations during games; kissing at the end of the day. But on the last night, Akaashi pulls away, his face red as he says, “I want to forfeit this bet.”

“Forfeiting is admitting you lose,” Kenma states plainly.

“Yes,” Akaashi says. “I mean, no. I don’t want to lose.”

Kenma stares at him, confusion plain on his face. “I don’t think I understand.”

“I don’t want to lose,” Akaashi says, staring at the ground, unsure of how to phrase the thoughts that are swimming around in his head. “I hate losing. But… I think I am. I don’t know if I’m in love with you, I admit. But, the way things are going, I feel like I could easily be able to get to that point. And I hate the idea that we are just doing this for a bet.”

“So… you want to stop?” Kenma asks, and Akaashi notices the way his eyes flicker - as though he’s upset about this fact.

“No,” Akaashi says vehemently. “I want this to be real. I would like to go on dates, and to buy you actual bouquets of flowers, and to smile at you across the net because you are my boyfriend. I want to fall in love with you, but I think I would like it to be… while we’re together.” 

Kenma tilts his head at Akaashi, an unreadable expression on his face. After a second of hesitation, during which Akaashi thinks that he might actually explode if Kenma doesn’t say something soon, Kenma says, “You could just ask me out, then.”

“I thought that was what I was attempting to do.”

“I didn’t hear a question.”

Akaashi frowns slightly, but then nods. “All right, fine. Kozume Kenma, would you do me the honor of being my boyfriend?” 

“Only if you buy me that game. Because you still lost.”

“Fine,” Akaashi says, because he would do more than that for his  _ boyfriend  _ anyways, and Kenma’s more than worth the price of one game. Kenma’s mouth tilts up slightly as he inches towards Akaashi, capturing Akaashi’s lips in a short, sweet kiss. 

“Kind of figured we were basically dating already anyways,” Kenma mumbles, burying his head in Akaashi’s chest. “At least, that’s what my team told me.”

“Hm,” Akaashi hums joyfully, rubbing his hands up Kenma’s back. He hasn’t dated anyone before, so he doesn’t know exactly how dating is supposed to work, but he thinks they may have done this a little backwards. 

Kenma tilts his head up to look at Akaashi. “What were you going to ask for if you won, anyways? You never said.”

Akaashi’s mouth tilts up a little. “That’s a secret.” 

Sure, he lost the bet. But regardless, when he’s here, holding Kenma close, he’s gotten basically everything he could have asked for - so in a way, it still feels like he’s won. 

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY AKAASHI!! I wanted to write something for his birthday, and I'm of the strong belief that the world deserves more Akaken, so that's where this fic came from.   
> Thanks to Lisa for the idea and for harassing me to write Akaken - here you go, with all my limited editing.   
> I hope you all enjoy!! Please leave a comment if you did or want me to write more in the future!


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